The Second Messiah

“Someone high up I called before we left Israel. I figure he’s got the clout to get us into the Vatican Archives.”

“You’re joking,” Yasmin answered. “Are we talking the pope here?”

Jack smiled. “Not this time, even if I do know him.”

Yasmin said wide-eyed, “You know the pope?”

“He was one of a Vatican delegation that joined my father’s dig at Qumran.”

“You certainly know how to impress a girl. What do you want to see in the archives?”

“Something I’ve never had the opportunity to see.”

“What?”

“When my parents died, Father Kubel, one of the priests who arrived at the accident scene, wrote a confidential report. I’d like to read it.”

“Why?”

“Call it a gut feeling, or call it a sixth sense if you want, but something’s telling me there could be a connection between what happened then and what’s happening now.”

“Explain, Jack.”

“People die at Qumran and a precious scroll goes missing. It’s happened twice—to my parents and to your uncle, twenty years apart. Those kinds of feelings I can believe in, trust me.”

“Everything I’ve heard suggests that the Vatican’s archives are off-limits except with the permission of high-ranking clergy. What makes you think your dad’s contact can help?”

Jack took Yasmin’s arm and guided her toward the security entrance manned by the Swiss Guards. “Because I’m making him an offer he can’t refuse.”

The silver Lancia pulled up sixty yards behind the white taxi. Nidal and the Serb observed the couple climb out and approach the Swiss Guards at the checkpoint. They saw the couple being led to one of the security lodges.

One of the guards spoke into a telephone and then pointed them toward the Vatican. The taxi waited. Nidal scratched his beard. “It looks like they have business inside the Vatican.”

“What now?” The Serb slid a MAC-10 machine pistol from under his seat and lay it on his lap, then grabbed a canvas travel bag from the backseat and slipped the weapon inside.

A look of steel flashed in Nidal’s eyes and he took a Beretta pistol from his inside pocket. “We wait. They can’t stay in there forever. But just remember, when there’s killing to be done, Cane’s mine.”

64

ROME

It was very peaceful in the sunlit garden. The pond was covered with huge water lilies, a stone fish spewing water from its mouth. Kelly sat there in the noon heat, wiping his brow with his handkerchief. He heard soft footsteps and turned to see the tall figure of Pope Celestine approach.

He wore scuffed leather sandals and a simple white cassock. Kelly rose. “Holy Father, it’s good to see you, as always.”

Becket extended both his hands and gripped Kelly’s warmly before kissing him on the cheeks. “Liam, old friend.”

As Kelly went to kneel and kiss the papal ring, the pope protested. “Please, we know each other a long time, you embarrass me. Do you like my hideaway? Abbot Fabrio is an old acquaintance and spoils me, of course. Wine with dinner and clean sheets every day. I’m ruined for kindness.”

Kelly stood and admired the garden. “It’s certainly peaceful and quiet, and you can’t hear the traffic, a miracle in itself. The Romans drive like they’re still competing in an ancient chariot race to the death. Yesterday a madman tried to run me over as I crossed near the Colosseum.”

The pope chuckled. “Poor Liam. And what did you do?”

“I called him an ignorant eegit in my best Italian.”

The pope laughed warmly and gestured to the bench facing the pond. “Let’s sit. We’ll be out of hearing of the guards and can talk in private.”

* * *

They sat by the bubbling pond. “Tell me what’s so important you wanted to talk about, Liam.”

Kelly sighed and stared at the bubbling water. “Holy Father, with every passing day your cardinals and bishops hear stories about your inspectors burrowing away like mad beavers in the archives’ vaults.”

Kelly’s good-humored lilt had disappeared. The pope said patiently, “What else do they hear, old friend?”

“That they are discovering all kinds of material. Much of it a terrible embarrassment to the church and best consigned to history. They have also heard that all records of church financial dealings are being prepared for public scrutiny.”

“This is simply as I promised, Liam. How can we speak of truth and then hide from truth ourselves?”

Kelly turned red-faced. “Then there was an episode with a prostitute. And now this, Holy Father. You leave your Vatican quarters for . . . for a monastery. Permit me to be frank.”

“Haven’t we always been, with each other?”

“John, all this may impress the young bloods in the church who seem to consider you a second messiah, but to the gray hairs among us, this is pushing it a bit far. I’ve heard the fearful whispers too. Anti-pope. Antichrist. For some older, more conservative cardinals, these controversial decisions of yours only seem to confirm it. And now to top it all you’ve left your official Vatican residence, for heaven’s sake.”

There was no trace of anger in the pope’s reply. “Am I less of a pope because I choose to live here, Liam?”